Destiny
by Fullofsassandclass
Summary: Christine Ford and her sister Becca are hunters. They meet Sam and Dean Winchester on a case in Michigan, and the four decide to stick together. As the group travels the country hunting monsters, Christine discovers there may be something not exactly natural going on with her, and they all realize that there are greater forces at work than ghosts and vampires.
1. Chapter 1

"Damnit, Christine!" my father roared.

I silently cowered in my place in the corner, clutching my knees to my chest as I waited for the inevitable.

"Why can't you just do something _right_ for once?" he continued.

"I-I'm sorry," seven-year-old me stuttered, choking back tears, "I didn't m-mean to, I-I-"

"_Enough!_" he bellowed, raising his hand. I flinched out of habit. "You shouldn't have touched that gun, Christine. It _broke_ the _window_. Now people are suspicious of us. Damnit…!"

His hand whipped down and connected with the left side of my red, tear-stained face. The force of the blow threw me against the wall, causing a loud thump. My eyes peeled open, sending a jot of throbbing through my head. I saw my three-year-old sister, Becca, cowering behind the couch.

"You're absolutely useless, you brat," I heard my mother sneer. She must have entered the room while I was hitting the wall. "Honestly, if Rebecca turns out as worthless as you I don't know what we're going to do." At this my father sighed and left the room with his hand on his forehead. My mom glared at me.

"Maybe if we didn't have to deal with you all the time we'd actually be happy for once."

"Christine!"

I woke with a start, bolting upright in bed. The image of my mother gradually melted away and was replaced with the musty old motel room my sister and I had checked into earlier that day. Now it was pitch black, and the clock said it was 2:47am.

"Christine?"

I glanced to my right as I steadied my breathing, seeing Becca looking at me with her trademark concerned look from her own bed.

"You okay?" she asked, keeping her look but smiling softly at me.

I forced myself to smile back at her. "I'm fine. Just a bad dream." I finally started to feel my heartbeat slow, approaching its normal pace.

"You…" she began quietly, averting her eyes by looking down, "You were apologizing. A lot. And crying. It…It was about mom and dad, wasn't it?"

I knew there was no point in lying to her. We knew each other too well. "Yeah."

"They're not a part of our lives anymore, Christine," Becca told me pointedly for about the millionth time, "They can't hurt us anymore. They can't hurt you."

"I know," I sighed.

"I don't care what they told you," she continued, coming over to sit beside me on my bed, "You're _not_ worthless."

"We don't need to have this conversation again, Bec," I sighed with exasperation.

"Apparently we do," she said sternly, "Chris, you've helped so many people. You're a great hunter, and you've saved countless lives. Do you know how many people would be dead right now if you weren't here? And don't forget about what you've done for me. You were my only support in that hellhole we called home. All those years with mom and dad, you protected me. You always took the beatings for me and never let them lay a finger on me. And best of all, you got me away from them. And you've done a hell of a job taking care of me."

"Yeah, yeah…" I mumbled, trying to take her words to heart. I plopped back down on the bed and pulled the blankets back up to my shoulders. "Thanks, Bec. Now go to sleep."

"Fine," she sighed, getting up and climbing back into her own bed.

"Goodnight, Becca," I called out sincerely.

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Check this out, Chris," Becca called from her laptop in the front of the motel room as I exited the bathroom. I made my way over to her and peered down at the screen.

"Three murders in the past week and a half," my sister informed, "So far all of the victims have been middle-aged women. All of them were found in their homes burned to death… on their stovetops."

"Gross," I shuddered, seeing the pictures on her laptop, "And their families didn't hear any screaming or anything?"

"Nope," she replied, "It seems like they all did it willingly…"

"So, maybe possession then?" I proposed. Becca nodded. "Any other connections?"

"Not that I know of," she told me.

"Lansing, Michigan, huh?" I sighed, "Well, let's get going."

"Lansing, Michigan, huh? Dean Winchester sighed as he and his brother, Sam, entered the town in their impala.

"Yep," Sam replied, "There should be a motel around the corner here.

"So, these women have anything in common?" Dean asked Sam after they had settled into their motel room.

"Nothing I can tell from the internet," Sam replied, "Besides their similar ages. We'll have to interview their families."

"I guess it's time to suit up, then," Dean smirked.

Once they were properly dressed in their suits and looked like actual FBI agents, they got back into the impala.

"I say we head to Janie Woods' house first. Her husband should be home with their kids," Sam said as they pulled out of the parking lot, "The address is 34w272 Water Ridge."

"Ok," Dean replied, "This was the house of the first victim, right?"

"Yep," his brother confirmed, "Her two kids found her… now it's just them and their dad."

"Poor kids…" Dean muttered.

They arrived at their destination fairly quickly. Both of them adjusted their suits as they approached the white door of the Victorian style house. Dean rapped on the door firmly. A middle-aged man with faded brown hair answered the door. The very noticeable dark circles under his eyes gave away his exhaustion.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his tiredness showing again through his voice.

"Good afternoon, we're agents Huntley and Johnson," Dean greeted as the boys held up their fake FBI badges and IDs, "We'd like to ask you a few routine questions about your wife's ordeal."

"But I already spoke with the FBI this morning," the man complained, "There were two women here. They already asked me your 'routine questions'."

The brothers were taken aback. After a few moments, Sam asked, "Oh… What sort of questions were they asking?"

The man looked vaguely pissed off. "Just the usual ones. If she had any enemies, relations to the other women… They did ask a few weird ones, though. If she had been acting strange, if the lights had been flickering or anything…"

The hunters glanced at each other. They lights? Why would they ask about that? Unless…

"So, were there any relations between your wife and the other victims?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," he replied, "What I told your FBI buddies this morning. They were all in the same cooking club."

"I see…" Dean said, "Well, we're very sorry for troubling you, sir."

"It's fine," the man said with a sigh, "Have a nice day." With that, he closed the door.

"Well, he was a ray of sunshine," Dean said sarcastically as they headed back to the impala.

"His wife just died, Dean," Sam replied with a pointed look, "Cut him some slack. Besides, I think we've got more important matters to deal with right now. I think… I think there are other hunters working this case."

"I heard there are other FBI agents in town," I told my sister once we met up again in our motel room.

"Yeah?" she asked, looking up at me from her laptop with her concerned look, "Do you think they're the real deal?"

"I don't know," I replied, "Actually, some of the locals said they were asking some pretty weird questions… like if any of the victims had been acting strange or if anything weird has been happening in the town."

Becca cocked her head. "You don't think…?"

"I think we're dealing with other hunters."

"What are we going to do about our… coworkers?" Becca asked me. We were sitting in a bar later that night, trying to figure out our next move.

"I say we should just keep working the case," I proposed, "Maybe we'll run into them along the way. If they're decent hunters, then they should have noticed someone else is on the case by now. Maybe they'll be looking for us too."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed, taking a sip of her beer. She may have only been 20, but that didn't stop her from drinking. It wasn't like she was an alcoholic or anything, and she's one of the most responsible people I know. It was easy to make a simple fake ID when your job requires fake FBI badges.

"So, are we gonna look for these hunter chicks?" Dean asked, gulping down a sip of his beer. They had gone to a local bar to plan out what to do next.

"I figure that if we keep on working the case, we may just run into them," Sam told his brother, "Who knows, they may even be looking for us. They seem to be good hunters, so it'd surprise me if they haven't noticed that they aren't the only ones on the case."

"Agreed," Dean said. He then glanced up at the bar and got a crooked grin on his face. "Speaking of chicks… I'm gonna go have a little fun."

"Go ahead," Sam laughed, watching his brother approach two girls with dark brown hair who were sitting at the bar.

"Hello ladies," Dean purred, walking up behind the two girls he had seen from his table. The one on the left, presumably the older one, rolled her eyes.

"I suggest you keep walking, hotstuff," she said with a smirk.

"Aw, come on," he complained, "I was just saying hello."

"Yeah, I'm sure," the younger one said with an eye roll identical to the other's. They looked strikingly similar, so Dean assumed they were sisters.

"Let me get you some more drinks," he proposed, sitting in the empty seat beside the older one, waving down the bartender, "Three beers, please."

"So what lovely names match these lovely faces?" Dean continued, flashing a smile at them.

The girls seemed to decide to play along. "I'm Christine," the older one said, "This is my sister, Rebecca." Just then the bartender handed them their drinks.

"Like I said," Dean flirted, "Lovely names."

Rebecca smirked. "Thanks," she said sarcastically, and then turned to her sister, "Chris, I think I'm going to head back and get some sleep. I'll see you."

"Alright," her sister replied, "Be careful."

"I'll be fine," she insisted before walking out the door, taking another swig of her drink.

"I guess it's just you and me now," Dean said, resting his arm on the table.

"I never caught your name, hotstuff," Christine flirted back.

"Dean," he informed her.

"Well, Dean," she said, "Thank you for the drinks."

"My pleasure," Dean purred, "So, what brings you and your sister here to Lansing? You live here?"

"No, we're here visiting some family," Christine explained, "Our aunt and uncle live here. It's sort of a family reunion." She shook her head and took a sip of her beer.

"Ah, a family reunion," Dean said sarcastically, "That sounds like fun."

"Always," she joked, "Tension-filled houses that always end up involving some sort of fight are definitely my idea of fun."

"Well, I know how to relieve some of that tension," Dean said smoothly, edging closer to Christine.

"Oh really…?" she purred allowing Dean to move his face closer to hers. Their lips were about an inch away when she smirked and pulled away.

"Sorry, not tonight, hotstuff," she laughed, standing up and grabbing her black leather jacket, "I'll see you around." With that, she left a very confused and disappointed Dean Winchester sitting alone at the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

"Chris, will you stop giggling? It's kind of disturbing," Becca protested as we sat in our motel room.

"I'm sorry," I laughed, "It's just… all of the women were in the same cooking club, right? Their deaths are almost ironic."

"The fact that you find this funny…" she sighed, shaking her head, "So check this out, another member of this club was killed almost two months ago. Laura Carlson. She died in a car accident on the way to one of their competitions."

"So you think that she's our ghost?" I asked, "Maybe there's a little bit more to all of the women's relationship."

"I'm willing to bet so," Becca agreed, "We should talk with some of the other members of the club."

"Yeah. Let's go," I instructed.

"Oh, Laura?" Sarah Wilson, another member of the victims' cooking club, told us when we asked about her, "She was…well, she never really fit in with the group. She wasn't the best cook, but she got pretty good pretty fast. A lot of the other girls didn't like that. They felt a bit threatened."

"Why is that?" I asked, trying not to fidget in my FBI suit.

"You see," she began, "In our competitions, everyone is ranked together no matter what group you belong to. So Laura suddenly had the potential to outrank the others, and four of them in particular didn't like that. It's really peculiar, actually…"

"Peculiar?" Becca asked, "How?"

"The three women who were killed…" Sarah explained, "Janie, Nora, and Diane… they were three of those four."

"Who was the other?" my sister and I said in unison.

"Ella Day," Sarah informed us.

"Could you tell us where she lives?" I questioned.

"Umm…" she mumbled, trying to remember, "32n462 Baker Street. She lives alone."

"Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Wilson," Becca said, shaking her hand as we rose to our feet.

"It was no trouble," she replied, "Thank you for your hard work. It means a lot to everyone that this mystery is solved. The girls… they will be dearly missed."

"We're glad to help," I smiled, "Have a nice evening."

Becca and I walked swiftly back to our car.

"This is no coincidence," I said, stating the obvious, "Motives, black goo at the crime scenes… We're definitely dealing with malevolent spirit possessions."

"Yeah," Becca agreed, "We need to get to Ella's place as soon as possible."

"So this is Ella Day's house?" Sam whispered to his brother as they crept up to the woman's house late the night after the incident at the bar.

"Yep," his brother replied, "Let's look for a back door. We need to get in there, pronto."

They easily found a back door, and Sam pulled out his lock pick and kneeled down so he was eye-level with the lock. Dean held a flashlight to the lock to help Sam see what he was doing, but Sam waved him away.

"…It's already open," Sam said, standing up.

The brothers crept into the house silently, staying completely on alert. Dean suddenly reached his arm out and stopped his brother.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered. He nodded in the direction of a doorway. They braced themselves and waited by the edge of the door, guns in hand. Dean silently nodded a one, two, three, and they whipped around the corner.

"What the hell?!" I whispered. Becca and I had neared a doorway in Ella Day's house when I heard a shuffling from the next room. As soon as we went to enter the room, we were met by two men pointing guns at us.

Of course, we were pointing guns at them too. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, the widened in surprise and I lowered my gun. "Dean?" I gasped, "What are you… oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me…"

The other man with Dean, who I had seen him sitting with at the bar before he approached us, turned to his brother. "Dean, aren't these the girls you were hitting on at the bar last night?"

"Yeah, Sam," he mumbled, "Are you saying…."

"You guys are the other hunters, aren't you?" Becca asked, saying what everyone had been thinking.

"You two are hunters?" Dean gaped.

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?" I asked sternly.

"N-No," he stuttered, "I'm just a bit surprised is all."

"People usually are," I sighed, and then grinned, "Makes deception easy, though."

"I knew I liked you for a reason," he grinned back.

"When you two are done flirting, we _do_ have a woman to save, you know," Becca pointed out in a teasing tone.

"We are _not_ flirting," Dean and I insisted in unison.

"Okay then when you guys are done not flirting we should probably go and find-" Sam was cut off by clicking sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen. We all exchanged panicked looks before bolting to the kitchen.

When we got there, Ella was sitting on the stove top with a distant look in her eye. Black goo was dripping from her ear. It was Laura. She clicked on the next burner.

"Laura, stop this!" Becca yelled.

"You don't need to do this!" Sam added.

"They deserve this," she croaked, "They tampered with my car… They made me drive off the road and into that lake. It's their fault I'm dead!"

"Please, just let her go," Dean pleaded.

"Laura," I called out, "Hiding inside a vessel like that… leave her and face me. Or are you just going to prove that they're better than you like they said?"

Her eyes whipped to me. Like I'd planned, Ella's body went limp and Laura appeared before me. Becca and Dean rushed over and pulled Ella off the stove. Becca nodded at me, assuring she was alright. I turned my attention back to Laura.

"That's more like it," I said cockily, shifting my shotgun in my hands. All I had to do was shoot her with one of these rock salt filled bullets and she'd be gone. For a while.

With practiced speed, I whipped the gun into position and fired, hitting my mark easily. She hadn't been expecting me to act so quickly.

"Damn," Sam smiled, "Nice job."

"Thanks," I replied, grinning back at him.

"Ella's unconscious, but alright," Becca called from her position beside Dean and the women on the floor, "Dean just called an ambulance. We should split before they show up."

"Good idea," I said, "Well, it's been nice working with you boys."

"Wait, hold up," Dean protested, "Where are you guys staying?"

"Red Valley Motel," Becca answered.

"Us too," Sam said, "Let's talk after we get out of here. Meet us in room seven?"

Becca and I exchanged looks, and then I nodded at Sam. "Sure. Now let's get the hell out of here."

With one last look at Ella, we all hurried out of the house and back to our cars.

"Well I never would've guessed that those two were the other hunters," Becca said in disbelief as she drove us back to the motel.

"Yeah," I agreed, "I'm a little shocked myself. I wonder why they became hunters…"

"Me too…" she replied, "Well, I guess we can ask them when we meet up with them."

"Yeah," I repeated, feeling myself slipping into my memories.

_ "Hold it like this," my mother instructed, demonstrating how to hold the pistol. I was six years old, almost seven. I did my best to replicate her stance._

_ "Not like that," she snapped, kicking my foot back hard enough to leave a bruise. I almost lost my balance, but I managed to hold myself up. "Your foot needs to be back farther. And lift your damn arms up, brat. It's not that heavy." I did as she said._

_ "Decent," she sneered, "Now fire it."_

_ "W-What?" I mumbled._

_ "Did I stutter?" she yelled, "Fire it. At that target over there."_

_ I looked to where she was pointing and saw a medium sized, circular, red and white target about 30 feet away. Hesitantly, I squeezed the trigger. I wasn't at all prepared and flew to the ground, not to mention missing the target completely._

_ "Come on, Christine," my mother sighed, glaring menacingly down at me, "That was horrendous. Anyone could've done better than that, probably even Rebecca. You're just worthless."_

"Christine?"

"What?" I said, coming back to the present.

"We're at the motel," she said, with her concerned look again. It seemed like this wasn't the first time she had told me.

"Right," I replied, my mind still in another place. I got out of the car, willing myself to focus. "They said room seven, right?" She nodded and we found the room.

I knocked once and then opened the door. "We're here."

"Yeah, sure, come on in," Dean replied sarcastically.

"Hey, you told us to come," Becca said mock-defensively. Sam laughed quietly, and Becca flashed a smile at him. This earned a suggestive look from me to Becca and one from Dean to Sam.

I walked over to one of the beds and sat on the edge. Sam was sitting at a little table in the front behind his laptop. He reminded me a lot of Becca, actually, which was why I couldn't help but smirk when she chose to sit at the table beside him. Dean was sitting on the edge of the other bed, beer in hand.

"Got any more of those?" I asked, gesturing to his beer.

"Sure," he replied, grabbing another from the room's mini fridge and tossing it to me before turning to my sister and Sam, "You two want one?"

Both nodded, and Dean tossed then each one.

"So…" I began, taking a long sip from my drink, "Hunters, huh? What's your story?"

"Something killed our mom when we were young," Sam explained sullenly, "Our dad wanted to find it and kill it. So he started hunting, and he taught us too. And now we're here."

"What about you two?" Dean added.

"Our parents are hunters," Becca explained before I could say anything, "They taught us how to hunt since the moment we were born. We left them about three years ago and have been hunting together ever since."

It looked like the brothers were curious as to why we left, but they sensed that we didn't want to talk about it and stayed quiet. Just like how we were curious about their mother's death but said nothing. It was a mutual understanding.

"You know, I don't think we ever got a formal introduction," I pointed out, smiling crookedly.

"Dean and Sam Winchester," Dean introduced, replicating my smile.

"Christine and Rebecca Ford," I replied.

"Nice to meet you guys," Sam said sincerely, "So, what do the three of you say to working together to finish this case?"

"Fine by me," Becca, Dean and I responded simultaneously.

"We need to find out where this Laura chick was buried," Dean announced, rising and walking over to his brother, "Can you find it online?"

"I'm looking," Sam replied, furrowing his brow, "But it looks like the family went to some pretty extreme lengths to keep that information private."

"Well, we can't just wander through a bunch of cemeteries until we find her grave," I sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed.

"Hold on," Becca interjected, leaning closer to Sam so that she could examine the computer screen. She looked up at Sam. "Did you try looking through the police mainframe?"

"That would require computer skills a lot better than mine," Sam replied.

"Here, give it to me," Becca instructed. Sam did as she said and slid the laptop over to her. She started typing profusely.

"Wow," Sam exclaimed, "You're gonna have to teach me how to do that."

Becca smiled up at him, temporarily pausing from her hacking work. "Gladly."

Dean and I exchanged looks, and I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

"And, we're in," Becca announced with a lopsided grin similar to my own.

"That was pretty impressive," Dean complimented, "So, where's this crazy chick buried?"

"She wasn't," Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair, "She was cremated."

The rest of us collectively sighed in frustration. Still, I couldn't help but smile. It was kind of fun working a case as a group.

"Is there anything that may have some of her remains in it?" I asked.

"It could be anything," Becca sighed, "We could ask her family, but it's late and we have no idea when Laura will attack Ella again. We don't have long before she recovers from the rock salt."

"Hold on," Dean muttered, "Sam, that one lady we talked to… Didn't she say something about that weird knife tradition their club had?"

"What tradition?" Becca and I asked in unison.

"That's right!" Sam exclaimed, "One of the other members we talked to said they had this strange tradition whenever one of them cut themselves during the club activities for the first time. They would spray the bloody knife with something to preserve the blood and put it in a case on the wall at the kitchen they had their meetings at."

"So some of Laura's blood might be at the clubhouse," I concluded.

"That's right," Dean confirmed.

"How about this," I began, "Bec, you and Sam go keep an eye on Ella at the hospital. Dean and I will go take care of the knife."

"Sounds like a plan," she replied and she and Sam rose from their chairs. We all hurried out the door. Sam and Becca took our car, and I rode in the brothers' car with Dean.

"Nice ride," I smiled as the engine roared to life.

"Isn't she?" Dean replied, returning my smile, "She's been my baby for years. I laughed, and we drove off.

"What hospital is Ella at again?" Becca asked Sam as she got into the driver's seat of her and Chris' navy blue 2003 Jeep Wrangler.

"McLaren Orthopedic," Sam replied as he climbed into the passenger's seat.

They drove in silence for a while. Sam risked a glance over at Becca. Her long, wavy brunette hair was hooked behind her ear, falling almost to her waist. The moonlight reflected beautifully off of her greyish-blue eyes. Those eyes shifted over and met his own and he quickly looked away.

"So," Sam said, clearing his throat, "That was pretty impressive back there."

"Impressive?" Becca asked, "What was?"

"Your hacking skills," Sam explained, "It takes someone really smart to do that."

Becca blushed lightly. Luckily, it was too dark in the car for Sam to notice. "Oh, that. Thanks. I'm, uh…good with computers, I guess."

"Who taught you how to do that?" Sam questioned, genuinely curious.

"I did," she replied bashfully, "I just kind of… figured it out."

"You're kidding me," Sam said in disbelief, "I take back what I said before, that's _extremely _impressive."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Against her will, she forced her eyes back to the road as they made their way to the hospital.

"Nice move putting my brother and your sister together," Dean said as they drove to the clubhouse.

"Thanks," I said smugly, "I could see the way they were looking at each other."

"Me too," Dean agreed with a smirk, "Sammy could use a bit of that right now."

"Becca too," I replied, "Sometimes I feel like she's too busy worrying about me to think of herself sometimes. And I'm supposed to be the older sister." I chuckled.

"Yeah, Sammy's had a rough time for the past few months," Dean explained, not going into much detail, "Something happened, and he's been beating himself up over it. It's nice to see him enjoying himself for a change."

I smiled softly, understanding. "Wait, over there. To the felt."

We had arrived at the clubhouse. It was an old warehouse that the group had converted into their clubhouse. They had added a bunch of ovens, stovetops, and other stuff.

"So Laura will either show up here to stop us," I began as Dean and I retrieved weapons and such from the truck, "Or she'll show up at the hospital."

"Right," Dean agreed, closing the trunk once we had what we needed, "Let's just hope we can find this thing easily."

"Excuse me," Becca said to the nurse at the counter when they entered the hospital. The nurse looked up and smiled, and the hunters held up their fake badges. "We're special agents West and Johnson. We need to know what room Ella Day is in, right now. It's important."

The now concerned nurse typed madly at her computer and then announced, "453. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Sam assured her, "Thank you."

The pair hurried up to the room as fast as they could. To their relief, Ella was alone- no Laura.

"Salt the window," Becca instructed, pulling some out of her bag and tossing it to Sam, "I'll get the door. Then we can start with the vents."

Sam did as he was told. As he finished with the window, he turned back to Becca. "You'd think Ella would've heard us and waken up by now…"

"I bet they gave her a sedative to help her sleep," Becca proposed, "With burns like that, I'd definitely want some."

Just as she was about to finish the last salt line, a huge gust of wind entered the room, blowing the salt all over.

"Call Christine!" Sam yelled over the wind. Becca already had her phone out.

"Chris! You guys need to burn that thing _now_!" she shouted into the phone. The wind was knocking things over now, and she had to hold onto Sam to keep herself upright.

Just then, the power went out and the wind stopped completely. It seemed like the power was out in at least the whole wing of the hospital.

"Bec? You okay?" Chris asked worriedly over the phone, "What happened?"

"We're fine," she said, nervously glancing around the room, waiting for Laura to make a move. So far, nothing. "Just hurry up."

"We're working on it," Chris told her, "Just hang in there." She hung up.

"They're working on it," Becca repeated in a semi-sarcastic tone.

"Awesome," Sam replied in a definitely sarcastic tone.

"_You_."

Both hunters' heads whipped up, meeting the glaring eyes of Laura's ghost.

"Ella _will_ die," Laura snarled, slamming Becca into Sam, making both of them fly against the wall behind them.

"Where _is_ the damn thing?" I sighed with frustration, scanning the shelves that contained the other knives.

"I don't know," Dean said gruffly, equally frustrated.

"They must have put it somewhere else," I proposed, "I don't see any of the victims' either. They probably took them down because they didn't want to look at them or something."

"I think there's a basement," Dean exclaimed, taking off down the hallway, "This way."

"Laura, stop this!" Sam yelled, getting to his feet and helping Becca to her feet, "You don't need to do this."

"Yes, I do," Laura seethed, "They killed me! All of them. They _killed_ me, and they all got away with it! They _have_ to pay!" She leapt towards Ella, who was still lying motionless in her bed.

With a loud grunt, Becca raised the iron crowbar she had brought and swung it at the spirit. She disappeared, and Becca raised the crowbar again. Sam and Becca looked around nervously, just waiting for her to return.

"Did you check those boxes over there?" Dean called to me from across the vast, musty basement.

"Not yet…" I muttered in reply, "Wait. Here it is!" Dean rushed over just as my phone rang.

"Chris, burn that thing _now_," Becca yelled into the phone, "We can't hold her off any longer."

"We have it, we have it," her sister insisted, "Just a few more seconds."

"_Now_ would be great," Sam said through clenched teeth. He now held the crowbar and had it raised by his shoulder. Laura was slowly approaching them, and now they were backed against Ella's bed.

Laura screeched menacingly and leapt at the hunters. But before she could attack, she let loose a pitiful wail and burst into flames. Chris and Dean had done it. Sam and Becca sighed, relaxing. It was over.

"Well," I sighed, grabbing my bags, "That's everything. We should get going."

"Yep," Becca agreed, picking up her own things.

"Let's go put everything in the jeep, and then say goodbye to Sam and Dean," I proposed, cracking a smile, "Plus, we need to make sure Sam has your number."

"Chris," Becca groaned, rolling her eyes. But I could see the blush creeping up her cheeks.

I just laughed and walked out of the motel room, seeing Becca following me from the corner of my eye. My laughter stopped abruptly once I saw the empty parking spot where we had left the jeep.

"You have got to be kidding me," I groaned.

"No way," Becca said, shaking her head, "I'm going to go talk to the guy at the front desk." She wasn't gone long, but the clear frustration on her face confirmed my suspicions.

"Apparently he saw some kids get in it and drive off earlier," Becca sighed, "He assumed the car was theirs and didn't do anything."

"Damnit!" I grunted, letting myself fall to the ground so I was sitting on the curb. I dropped my face into my hands.

"Something wrong?"

Raising my head, I saw the Winchesters leaving their motel room.

"Some assholes decided to steal our car," I grumbled.

"That's rough," Sam sighed.

"Where are you guys headed?" Dean asked.

"Not sure yet," Becca replied, rubbing her temples, "We haven't picked out our next case."

"How about you two come along with us?" Dean suggested, "We were one hell of a team back there, and it beats wandering around on foot."

Becca looked at me, and I shrugged. "Why not?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! Thank you soo much for reading this. It's my first fanfic that I'm publishing, so I'm glad that people seem to like it. Because I took so long to get this chapter out, I'm actually going to post chapter 4 right after this one. Thanks again!**

* * *

I wasn't expecting to enjoy hunting with the Winchesters as much as I did. Not only was it fun, but it was very efficient. It was very easy to take down the ghosts and pagan gods we had hunted over the past few weeks. It had been surprisingly laid back, and I was feeling pretty at ease. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I had found a place where I wasn't being constantly emotionally traumatized.

Yeah, I was wrong.

When Dean was electrocuted, I was reminded that there was no escaping it. It was just part of the job. Part of me, I guess. But I wasn't going to let that get to me, and Becca and I did everything we could to help Sam find a way to save Dean.

"Dean, come on," Becca whined as we exited the impala, "Just give it a shot."

"A faith healer, guys?" Dean protested as we walked up to the tent where the service was supposed to take place, "Really? There's no way this will help."

"You had a heart attack, Dean," I interjected, "You're running out of options. At least go along with it for now."

"From the looks of you guys, I don't seem to have a choice," Dean muttered.

The truth was, I didn't think it would work either. I had never been religious and didn't believe in God or anything. But I didn't want to see Dean die, so I was willing to explore every option. And to my surprise… It worked. I couldn't believe it. The pastor has called Dean up right away, much to Dean's discomfort. He placed his hand on Dean's head and recited some sort of incantation. And that was it. Dean was healed.

"I don't know," Dean said for about the hundredth time the next day when we were back at the motel. We had all congregated in Becca and I's room. "Something about this still seems fishy."

"Dean," Sam sighed, "Can't you just be happy you're alive?"

"Not when the circumstances are this weird," Dean replied before turning the laptop he was using around so we could see it, "Look at this. Some guy –exactly my age- died of a heart attack yesterday afternoon. He was in perfect shape, too."

"So?" the other three of us grumbled in unison.

"So," Dean said pointedly, "No one like him should be having a heart attack. And it seemed to happen around the same time I was healed."

"I'll admit, it's a little weird," Becca said with a sigh, "But it's probably nothing."

"Come on, let's at least check it out," Dean insisted.

We all looked at each other, realizing that there was no point in arguing.

"Fine," I sighed, "Sam, Bec, do you guys want to look into this other guy's death? Dean and I can go back for today's service and take another look."

"Sure," Sam replied.

* * *

"I know what you're trying to do," Becca told me as we gathered our weapons and stuff and prepared to execute my plan. The boys had gone back to their own room to get their things.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Having Sam and I go together," Becca clarified, "It's incredibly obvious. You do it every time."

"And yet, you _still_ haven't made a move yet," I told her, "And neither has Sam. Why is that?"

"I don't know," Becca replied, blushing slightly, "I guess there hasn't really been much of an opportunity."

"Not much of an opportunity?" I scoffed, "This is why I keep asking you guys to work together."

"I don't think grave desecration has a really romantic atmosphere, Chris," Becca pointed out, buttoning up her FBI suit.

"Okay, you've got a point," I admitted, "But still. I'm rooting for you, Becca."

"Thanks," she laughed, and the raised an eyebrow, "What about you and Dean? You two seem a little flirty sometimes."

"Yeah," I agreed, opening the door to leave, "I don't know, though. I'm not really into him that much."

"Well, I think you'd be cute together," she informed me, cracking a smile.

I chuckled, and then we saw Sam and Dean leaving their motel rooms.

"I'll see you later, Bec," I said to my sister before walking over to Dean.

"See you, Chris."

He was right. Typical. Nothing good ever happened to me and Becca. And it seemed that it was the same way for the Winchesters. In this case, it was a reaper. Whenever someone was healed, another life was taken. The pastor's wife had bound the reaper so it had to do her bidding. With plenty of effort, we were able to set it free. The pastor's wife, unfortunately, did not make it through the night.

No one case was simple. I thought Becca and I got all the weird cases, it always seemed like we attracted them. But oh, was I wrong. With the Winchester's and our weirdness-attractors, we got weirder than weird. Ghost trucks, old women (who were possessed, by the way) ransacking people's houses… And don't even get me started on the incident with the curling iron and the ice-cream truck. Oh, and of course, Sam's psychic premonitions and the fact that it has something to do with what killed his mom. Like I said, weird stuff. But, to my surprise, I was enjoying myself more than I had in a long time. I love Becca to death. And don't get me wrong, I love spending time together, just the two of us. But having Sam and Dean around was really nice. It was almost like we were a little makeshift family.

We had just finished a hunt one day, and were relaxing in Sam and Dean's motel room with some drinks. It had been a couple months that we had been hunting together.

"So," I began, "You've been looking for your dad for how long now?"

"I'd say…" Dean replied, thinking, "Probably for a couple months before we met you guys."

"And he hasn't even called?" I added, a bit miffed, "Does he have a reason?"

"We don't know," Sam admitted, "We just want to find him."

"Well, you two are loyal, I'll give you that," Becca replied. No one spoke for a few moments

"Hey," Dean said, his voice disrupting the silence, "We've never heard anything about your family. Or your guys' past, for that matter. What's your story?"

Becca looked at me uncomfortably. I knew she was worried about me. But I couldn't keep hiding this from everyone I met, especially if I wanted to stay with them. Becca always tried to avoid the subject for my sake. She was surprisingly calm about the subject of our past. So I was going to take after her for a change.

"If you don't want to talk about it…" Sam assured, sensing our hesitation.

"No, its fine," I said, smiling a little. Becca looked a bit shocked. I continued, "We didn't really have the best childhood. Honestly, I don't know why our parents even had kids. According to them, we were more trouble than anything. They taught us to be hunters since the moment we could walk. And they were real shitty parents. They…weren't nice, if you want to think of it like that. Mentally…or physically."

The sad look in their eyes showed me that they understood what I meant. But it wasn't pity that I saw, it was… sympathy. Like they knew what I was talking about from firsthand experience. It didn't really surprise me. From how they talked about John, it seemed like there was something off about him. I didn't even know the guy and I already didn't like him.

"About three, almost four, years ago," I continued, "We left, and vowed never to go back. So we've been on our own since then."

"Wow," Sam breathed, "That sounds horrible."

"Yeah, it was," Becca admitted, her voice actually shaking a bit. She usually didn't let people see this get to her. "But we're better now. It's in the past."

"That's good," Dean said sincerely, his eyes dark. I could tell that what I had said hit home with him.

"Well, now that you've gotten a taste of our past," I began, taking a swig of my drink, "It's time you shared your part."

"There's not much to tell," Dean sighed, "Like we said, a thing killed our mom. So our dad started hunting, and eventually we did too."

"It was a shitty childhood," Sam added, leaning back in his chair, "Not really a childhood at all, actually. But we've come to terms."

"I guess we're all in the same boat, then," Becca said quietly.

"Why is it that whenever we're on a hunt, we always end up in a bar?"

Weeks later, the group of hunters was in the windy city, Chicago, investigating a violent murder that occurred in a locked apartment. They had done some research earlier about a strange symbol that they had found in the apartment only to find that it was used for summoning daeva, some sort of shadow demon. And now, somehow, they had ended up in a bar. Again.

"Because our older siblings are alcoholics," Sam replied, sitting beside Becca at the table they had found near the back of the bar. Chris and Dean were up at the bar, getting drinks for themselves and their siblings. The pair sighed in agreement.

Their siblings had just joined them when Sam heard a familiar voice form behind him.

"Sam?"

He turned around quickly, only to see the person he least expected to see. "_Meg_?"

Meg Masters was standing before him, just as she had been the last time she and Sam had talked. Just after Chris and Becca had met the Winchesters, there had been some family drama that caused Sam to run off. He had met Meg while hitchhiking. He never expected to see her again.

Sam was starring wide-eyed at the girl who had just said his name. She had extremely short blonde hair, and wore a reddish-brown leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans.

"What do you know?" the girl, Meg, laughed, coming over to hug Sam. I glanced over at Becca and saw her biting her lip and looking away. I tried to conceal my smile.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked with a smile.

"I just sorta ended up here," she replied, "What about you? And who are these guys?" She gestured to the three of us.

"Work," Sam explained, not going into any detail whatsoever, "This is my brother, Dean, and some people we work with."

"_You're _Dean?" Meg asked, her face contorting with anger, "You're a real jerk, you know."

"Excuse me?" Dean exclaimed, clearly confused.

"Meg, it's okay," Sam insisted, cutting her off before she could continue, "We're fine now."

Meg reluctantly stayed quiet.

"Um, you guys?" Becca piped up. Everyone looked over at her expectantly. "We should… We should probably go. We have an early day tomorrow…and we have…things to do."

"Well that was vague," Meg said blatantly, "I'll take that as a hint. I'll see you around, Sam," She winked at him and walked away. I saw Becca clench her fist under the table. Sam also looked extremely uncomfortable. I shared a look with Dean, and we both smirked.

"We really should get going," Becca said quickly, "We don't know when the daeva will strike next."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "Also…I have a weird feeling about Meg."

We all looked at him, confused.

"I think she may have something to do with what's going on."

* * *

"There's no way that seeing her again is a coincidence," Same explained once we were back at the motel, "We should keep an eye on her."

"You mean _you_ want to keep an eye on her," Dean said suggestively. Becca looked away from Sam again.

"No, nothing like that," Sam said defensively, a blush creeping up his neck.

I laughed. "So, are we going on a stakeout?"

"I believe so," Becca grumbled.

"Hey, she's leaving," Becca said quickly after hours of near silence. I lurched up from the seat where I was laying down, accidentally kicking Becca in the stomach.

"Sorry," I apologized absently, "Dean, follow her."

He did as I said, and we soon found ourselves outside of an old warehouse. They waited a few minutes before following Meg inside. Becca and I took the lead as they crept up the rusty stairs. They stopped when they heard something. They peered up onto the next floor through some bars and saw Meg standing next to a strange alter. It was covered in all sorts of strange symbols, plants, and books. Meg was standing over a goblet of some sort, speaking quietly into it. Suddenly, she stopped.

"Hello, boys," she sneered, turning to face us, "Girls."

Before we knew it, we were thrown against the wall by an invisible force. The daeva.

"You just _had_ to come meddling around, didn't you?" Meg sighed, sauntering over to us.

"It's you," Becca gasped, her airways slightly cut off by the daeva holding her against the wall, "You're the one controlling the daeva."

"Guilty," Meg smirked.

She continued her villainous banter, like all people like her do. But she slipped up, allowing Sam to break free of the daeva's grasp. He leapt over to the alter and grabbed the book containing the daeva controlling ritual and burnt it using one of the candles that Meg had set up.

"No," she shrieked, "What have you done?" Just then, one of the daeva struck her hard in the gut. She went flying backwards and into the window, shattering it instantly. She fell the seven stories down to the cement sidewalk.

We waited for the daeva to attack us, but no such attack came. They were gone. I sighed in relief.

"Nice thinking, Sam," Becca said, still slightly out of breath.

"Thanks," he smiled, breathing heavily with the rest of us.

I smirked at them, and I'm willing to bet that Dean did too.

"Let's get the hell out of here," I proposed, wanting to get out of that smelly warehouse.

"Definitely," Dean agreed.

The ride back to the motel was mostly silent. We were all processing what had happened. Meg had been talking to someone –something- through that weird goblet. And all of the signs pointed to one thing: the thing that killed Mary Winchester.

We all went straight for the boys' room, presumably to talk through everything that had happened. But we didn't get to that. The door to their room was open a crack when they got there. I was already in the lead, so I pulled a knife out of my boot and headed towards the door. Becca, Sam, and Dean followed me closely, all of them brandishing their own weapons. I carefully pushed the door open, only to see a shadowy, male-like figure standing in the dark. He turned sharply towards me, and I lunged at him automatically, plunging my knife into his shoulder. The man screamed and clutched at his wound as I ripped out the knife and kicked him to the ground.

"Chris, stop!" Dean yelled. I looked at him like he was crazy. Sam ran to turn on the light switch. The man that I had stabbed was writhing on the floor. Blood now stained his brown leather jacket and had dripped down to his jeans. He had dark hair and it looked like he hadn't shaved in about a week.

"Do you know him?" I asked, not taking my eyes off of the intruder.

"Y-Yeah…" Sam stuttered, "…That's our dad."

"Then why was he sneaking around in here?" Becca protested, looking worriedly back down at him.

"I don't know," Dean said with frustration, "But that's beside the point. You just _stabbed_ our _father_."

"Well, he shouldn't have broken into your room and waited in the dark like a creepy psycho!" I pointed out.

"I was _waiting_ for my _sons_," John groaned, picking himself up off the floor.

"Ever heard of a light switch, buddy?" I muttered under my breath.

Becca sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester. Here, let me stitch that up."

John obliged, and sat on the bed as he removed his shirt.

I dejectedly wiped the blood off my knife and put it back in my boot. "Sorry, sir. Force of habit."

"John," he corrected, "And it's fine. It's what I would have done. If you don't mind my asking, who are you two? And what are you doing with my sons?"

"I'm Christine Ford, and this is my sister Becca. Call me Chris," I introduced, "We're hunters. We've been hunting with Sam and Dean."

"It's nice to meet you," he said, and then glanced at his shoulder, "All things considered."

I wanted to tell him that it was nice to meet him too, but I didn't. I couldn't. I had seen the looks on Sam and Dean's faces when I talked about my parents. So I just nodded and walked over to the other bed to sit down. Becca finished stitching him up pretty quickly, and John stood up to face his sons.

They were all a little teary-eyed. John looked Sam in the eye, and they both stepped forward into a hug.

"How are you, Sammy?" he asked, smiling.

"I'm good, dad," Sam replied, holding back tears.

"Dean," John said, turning towards his eldest son and pulling him into a hug. I may be crazy, but I swore that I saw a tear run down Dean's cheek.

When they pulled apart, John began, "Look, boys. I-"

He was interrupted by the door bursting down. We were all thrown against the walls again, and all of the light bulbs in the room exploded.

"The daeva," I choked out.

"Sam," Becca coughed, looking over her right shoulder at a duffle bag by Sam's feet, "The flares."

Sam got the message, and was able to pick up the bag with his feet. He pulled a couple flares from the bag and dug around for a lighter. Once he was able to light the flares, the daeva shrieked and disappeared. Shadow demons don't like light.

We all struggled to regain our bearings as we rose from the ground.

"Everyone okay?" Dean called out. He received a chorus of "yeah"s.

"Nice thinking, Becca," Sam said with a smile.

She returned the smile. "Thanks." Even John gave them a look.

"We should get out of her before the daeva come back," I suggested. Everyone nodded and we headed out to the parking lot.

"There'll probably be room for you in back, dad," Dean said, getting into the impala.

"It's okay, Dean," he said quietly, "I won't be going with you."

"What?!" Sam and Dean yelled at the same time.

"You just got here!" Sam protested.

"It's too dangerous for us to be together," John explained, "Tonight was proof of that."

"Look, we can figure this out," Dean insisted.

"No, Dean," he said firmly, "Just listen. The thing that killed your mother. It's a demon. A powerful one."

"A demon?" we all said together.

"Yes," John confirmed, "And I'm going to take care of it. Alone."

"Dad-" Sam said desperately.

"Goodbye, boys," he said, "Girls, take care of my sons, will you?"

"Sure," I said quietly.

"Wait, dad!" Dean called out.

He just walked away, and the boys knew better than to try following him. John Winchester left the four of us sitting in the impala very confused and very grim. And we had no idea what to do next.


	4. Chapter 4

"Chris? You okay?"

I forced myself to peel open my eyes. My head was throbbing, and just moving my eyes hurt. It felt like someone was scraping my brains out of my skull.

"Chris?" Becca repeated, looking down at me with her trademark look, "Another migraine?" I grunted in response, rolling over and burying my head in the pillows.

"I'll get you some of your migraine medicine," Becca announced, and I felt her get up from the edge of bed where she had been sitting.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Dean's voice came through the door. "You guys up?"

"Door's unlocked," Becca yelled, causing me to wince. She realized that she'd yelled and whispered, "Sorry," as she brought a big red pill over.

I sat up as the boys walked in, already dressed and ready to go. They both looked at me as I dry-swallowed the pill.

"…You okay, Chris?" Sam asked, cocking his head, "You don't look so good."

"Understatement," I groaned, flopping back down on the bed.

"She gets these really bad migraines a lot," Becca explained, "They started around when she was twelve. And they've gotten progressively worse… Even that migraine stuff I just gave her doesn't really work anymore. She says it takes the edge off, though."

"That sucks," Dean sighed, "Anything we can do to help, Chris?"

"Talking quieter would be nice," I suggested grumpily. Their voices turned into hushed whispers, and I tried to ignore the pain in my head.

This was the worst one in a while. And it was the first time in months that I'd woken up with one this bad. I'd seen doctors, but none of them seemed to know what was wrong with me. Which was just great, because it gave my parents all the more reason to complain about me.

I trained myself to ignore it and pretend I wasn't in pain when I was younger. Whenever I brought it up to either of my parents…well, let's just say they didn't see it as a problem for me, but more of a problem for them. I always got punished for complaining. So I stopped doing it.

It took nearly an hour, but the pain finally subsided enough for me to get up and get dressed. By the time my hair was brushed and my makeup was done, the migraine had turned into a mere headache. _That _was manageable.

We all ended up going out to breakfast soon after. We had normal conversation, and it all felt like a normal morning. The reality is, the recent past had been anything but normal.

The demons had kidnapped John. Sam and Dean absolutely freaked, and I think the only think that kept them from running off and getting themselves killed was Becca and I calming them down and convincing them to go to Bobby's for help. Finding John after that was easy enough. Looking back on it, it was way too easy. We got him out and to a secluded cabin where we thought we'd be safe. Oh, were we wrong.

As it turns out, Azazel was possessing John. He was so powerful that our holy water tests didn't even work. Sam had the chance to kill him with the Colt, but he wouldn't do it if it meant killing his father in the process. To be honest, if I could have gotten the gun from him, I probably would have pulled the trigger for him. Maybe it would have prevented what happened later on.

Azazel skipped out as soon as he realized we could kill him. On the car ride back to Bobby's, one of Azazel's asshole demon minions hit the impala with a semi-truck. None of us were seriously hurt besides Dean. He almost died, _again_. He even had a reaper on his tail until John made the deal.

He made a deal with Azazel. If he gave Azazel the Colt and his life, then Azazel would save Dean. That was the deal. It brought Dean back, but he was so full of guilt that I felt an immense hatred for John Winchester. I already hated him anyways. Dean had told me some of the things that he did to him and Sam when they were kids. But this hate was different. He left his sons without even giving them an explanation. We had to find out what happened ourselves.

So we went back to hunting. The boys were upset, but they weren't going to let that show. They released their anger through hunting. Becca and I were sure of one thing, though. We weren't leaving them anytime soon. They needed the support right now. And even though we hated to admit it, they were support for us too.

Becca had always been my support. It went against the older-sibling-is-always-supporting-the-younger-sibling stereotype, but it's the truth. She helped me more than I think I ever helped her. But she wasn't invincible. There were nights where I'd come back from grocery shopping and hear her quietly crying in the bathroom. When I confronted her about it, she denied it at first. But nothing ever stays hidden between us for long. We always confided in each other, and nothing we told each other ever changed our relationship. Which was why I was so confused about why she avidly avoided talking to me about her feelings for Sam. Every time I brought it up, she'd change the subject as soon as possible. It took forever to get her honest thoughts on the subject.

"Why do you keep bringing this up?" she asked, almost angrily one day when I asked her about Sam.

"Because you keep avoiding the subject," I retorted.

She sighed loudly. "If I talk to you about it now, can we not talk about it again for a while?"

"Of course," I said quickly. That may or may not have been a lie.

"I just…" she sighed again, "I don't know. I've liked guys before. It's not exactly a new thing. But Sam… Sam is different. He's not like the others. I like him, a lot. I _really_ like him, Chris."

I grinned widely. "Oh wow, you really _do_ like him a lot, don't you?"

"Yes, that's what I just said."

"I had no idea it was this serious," I continued.

"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises," Becca sassed.

"So tell me," I began, "Why the hell haven't you made a move yet?!"

Becca just sighed exasperatedly.

We didn't really talk about it again after that. She began avidly avoiding the topic again, but I was contempt with what information I had gotten. For then, anyway. Dean and I sure did discuss our little siblings' not-relationship a lot, though.

"Sam is just afraid," Dean told me one day, "He really likes her. But he's afraid of getting too close to someone again. After Jess, you know?"

"I understand," I replied, "Although, I _do_ think that Becca is a bit more capable of defending herself than Jess was."

"That's what I told him," Dean sighed, "But I just can't get through to him."

"I can't get through to Becca either," I complained, "I don't know why she hasn't made a move yet."

We shared an understanding look, and clinked our beer bottles together before each taking long gulps.

Things like this almost made me feel normal. Like a normal older sister trying to set her little sister up with a nice boy. But we were definitely far from normal. That was made clear a few nights after Dean and I's conversation. What I wouldn't give to be normal for once…

We were hunting a lamia. Lamia are humanoid monsters with long claws used for ripping people apart so they can feat of the human's heart. Gross. Anyway, the four of us had chased it down to the sewers and we had it cornered.

"Damnit, where's my silver knife?" I yelled, checking every single one of my pockets. It must have fallen out. Sam and Dean both had theirs out, keeping the creature in its place in the corner.

"I've got this," Becca promised, pulling out her own knife. I nodded at her, my "be careful" implied.

But she wasn't careful enough. She was about to plunge the knife through the creature's heart when its foot slipped out and tripped her. She fell into it, and it held its claws at her throat.

"Put your weapons down or her throat gets torn to ribbons," it hissed.

We all froze. My heart stopped, and my breathing slowed. It was just as the boys began lowering their knives when I felt my hand land on something cool in my pocket. A silver throwing knife. In record speed, I whipped it out and flung it at the creature. It narrowly missed Becca. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. She pried herself from its grasp and darted away as I darted towards it. It howled in pain as it gripped its shoulder where I had hit it with the knife. By the time it saw me coming, I was already taking the knife out of its shoulder and plunging it into its chest. With an inhuman gasp, it fell to the ground and I removed my blade. I kicked the body before walking away, panting.

"That was close," Dean exclaimed, breathing heavily with the rest of us. All of our hearts were beating fast.

"Are you okay, Becca?" Sam asked, giving her a look similar to her own trademark look.

"I'm fine," she blushed, "Chris, how about you?"

"Great," I breathed.

"Well that's too bad."

Sam, Dean, and I looked up at Becca in surprise.

"What?" Dean and I asked in unison.

Becca grinned. But it wasn't her usual grin. And the look in her eyes wasn't like her at all either.

She cackled. "That's too bad. I'm about to make your day ten kinds of bad, sweetheart."

Confusion flooded through me. And then it hit me. "You're not my sister. You're a demon."

"No," she gasped sarcastically, confirming my suspicions, "How could you say that?"

"Get out of her you filthy bitch," I snarled.

"Language," the demon snapped, "I'm simply here to send a message."

"Here's a message of our own," Dean countered, "Get the hell out of Becca right now, or you'll be dead before you can blink."

"Don't be silly," she smirked, "Just let me deliver my message and I'll be gone. No need to get your panties in a twist." She sauntered over to the dead lamia on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked worriedly. He got no answer.

The demon reached down to both sets of the lamia's claws and grasped them firmly. Next, she yanked the, clean off of the beast's hands, splattering blood everywhere. She walked back over to us.

"What are you-" I began, only to be interrupted by the demon.

"Azazel sends his regards," she said with an evil grin, lining the claws up with Becca's chest, "And he says not to interfere with his plans again."

The demon plunged the claws deep into my sister's chest and ripped it open. Then, as quickly as she had appeared, she left my sister and let her fall to the floor.

"_Becca_!" I screeched, running to her and dropping down at her side, "You stay with me. We're gonna fix this. It's going to be okay, Becca."

"I-It's okay, Christine," she choked, coughing up blood, "B-Boys…I need you…t-to…promise me som…something,"

"Anything," Sam said, dropping down next to her and taking the hand that I wasn't holding.

"T-take care of my…sister," she ordered, "Don't l-let her do anyth…thing stupid. G-got it? P-Promise."

"We promise," Don't l-let her do anyth…thing stupid. G-got it? P-Promise."

"We promise," Dean said, kneeling beside his brother. Tears were even welling up in his eyes. Tears were rolling down Sam's cheeks, and I was a sobbing mess.

"I-I love you, Chris-stine," she said to me, forcing a smile, "Be…be strong."

"I love you too, Rebecca," I sobbed, "I love you so much. Don't worry. You're going to be okay. We'll…we'll take you to Bobby's. He can patch you up. You'll be fine. I promise. It's going to be okay. You're go-"

"Chris."

"What?" I snapped, looking over at Dean. He stood up and walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, "She's gone."

I dragged my face down to my sister. Her eyes had glazed over, and her hand had slacked in mine.

"No," I muttered, shaking my head, "No. No. No, no, no, no. no. no. no…"

"Christine," Sam whispered, "We need to go."

"No!" I yelled.

"Chris," Dean pleaded.

"I can't leave her!" I sobbed.

"We'll give her a funeral," Dean assured me, "But for now you have to get up. She wanted you to be strong, remember?"

"But I can't…" I wept.

"Come on," Dean muttered, pulling me up and leading me away.

"No!" I protested, trying to run back to her. Dean retaliated by picking me up by the waist and throwing me over his shoulder. I saw Sam pick up Becca's body, looking down sadly at her.

"She can't be dead," I sobbed as Dean later plopped me down in the back seat of the impala, "She can't be."

"I'm so sorry, Chris," Dean said softly, looking down, "Stay here. I'll come get you once the funeral pyre is set up. You want to give her a hunter's funeral, right?"

I couldn't process any information right now. My sister was dead. My baby sister, Becca, was dead. And I didn't do anything to stop it. She was dead, and she wasn't coming back. I would never hear her laugh again, never see her smile. I'd never wake up to her cheerful voice or be kept up all night by her philosophical questions. She was gone. And it was hitting me hard.

I forced myself to think logically. That's how I usually got through any emotional crisis. Why should this be any different? Right. Think, Christine. Funeral. What had Dean asked? A hunter's funeral. Yes. I nodded weakly. Dean walked off to join his brother. I don't know how much time passed before he came to get me. I wordlessly followed him. There were no more tears rolling down my cheeks. I had cried so much that I don't think I had any tears left to cry.

The sight before me almost conjured tears out of nothing. Becca was completely wrapped in white cloth and was set upon a large stack of sticks and hay, probably stolen from a local barn. Sam was already there, staring blankly.

"Do you want to say anything, Chris?" Dean asked softly. I shook my head. "Sam?" He shook his.

"Well, I do," Dean said, "Becca…You were truly amazing. We're all going to miss you. Rest peacefully."

With that, she lit the base of the pyre with his lighter. He must have doused it with fuel earlier, because it lit up like a Christmas tree. I stood there silently, staring into the flames as they engulfed the remains of my sister. I vowed right then and there that I would do anything and everything I could to help the Winchesters destroy the evil bastard that was responsible for this, once and for all.


	5. Chapter 5

-Dean's POV-

Christine was a mess. And I mean, a _mess_. Which was completely understandable, considering that her sister was just ripped apart in front of her… But still. I'd never seen her like this. At first, she had been a sobbing wreck. But when I went to get her for the funeral, she was silent. The look in her eyes scared me. Becca's voice echoed through my head. _Don't let her do anything stupid_. I needed to keep an eye on her.

All she did was stare blankly into the flames. It was starting to scare me. Chris always had something to say. But now, she just stared. And I could see thoughts swimming around and formulating in her head. That scared me too. I was afraid of what she might do now that Becca was gone.

I wasn't going to let her leave us. She was in no state to be running around on her own. Plus, the girls had sort of become like members of the family… Which is why Becca's death hurt me a lot too. Dean Winchester, mister showing-no-emotion, was visibly upset about losing her. "Upset" isn't exactly the right word, though. More like devastated. But that was nothing compared to how Chris felt right now. I could only imagine how it would feel if Sammy was taken away from me. No. I didn't want to think about it.

Now she had a fierce look in her eyes. She looked dangerous. She always looked dangerous, but right now, she looked scarier than I'd ever seen anyone look before. My worry for her was outweighing my grief. I didn't want her to do anything stupid, like what Becca wanted us to keep her from doing.

"Hey, Chris," I said softly, walking over to her. She did nothing. Sam looked at her and then at me. He seemed to be just as concerned as I was.

"Chris," I repeated, carefully placing my hand on her shoulder. This caused her to look up at me after a few seconds.

"We should go," I continued. She looked back at the flames for a few moments, and then nodded. I led her away, protectively placing an arm around her shoulders. She seemed weak. As we walked back towards the impala, her legs began to shake and she leaned into me for support.

I could feel my heart in my throat. It took a lot to make Christine Ford show any sign of weakness. And she was at her weakest now, and she was letting her guard down around us. I wouldn't make her regret that. Sam and I were going to take care of her until she didn't need us to anymore. And if she wanted to leave after that…well, I wouldn't stop her. But I wouldn't like it. Like I said, she and Becca…they had become part of the family. I could only help that she felt the same way.

-Christine's POV-

I don't think I could ever thank Dean and Sam enough. I wanted to thank Sam for helping with Becca's body, I wanted to thank Dean for being so gentle and supportive with me, and I wanted to thank them both for not abandoning me. Becca was all that I had. And now that she was gone, I…I didn't know what to do. But they were there to guide me.

They brought me back to the impala and to the motel. Dean brought me to their room and took the couch for the night, sensing that I wouldn't want to go back to the room with all of mine and Becca's things just yet. I was grateful for that too. None of us said a word for the rest of the night. We were all silently grieving. I could see that Sam was particularly distressed. He obviously cared for her very much… I only wish that they had gotten the chance to tell each other how they felt. Dean and I had been placing bets on when it would happen. I guess those were void now.

I didn't speak again until the morning. Dean had apparently gone and gotten a change of clothes for me from my room earlier that morning, so I just got ready there. It was only as we ate our breakfast when I spoke. There was no point in delaying the conversation any further.

"We need to find Azazel," I stated.

Both brothers looked over at me in surprise.

"There's no point in avoiding the topic," I pointed out, sitting down at the table beside them.

"Y-you're right," Dean stuttered, still a bit taken aback, "But don't you want time…time to grieve?"

"I'll grieve when that son of a bitch is dead," I snarled, accidentally slamming my mug of coffee on the table. The light brown liquid sloshed all over the table, causing me to snap out of my rage.

I sighed, choking back tears as I leaned back into my chair. Wow. This holding-myself-together thing was going to be harder than I thought.

"Chris…" Sam said, looking at me in a way that eerily reminded me of Becca's trademark concerned look. That only made me want to cry more. I was in danger of completely losing it.

"We'll find Azazel as soon as we can," he continued tenderly, "We all want to kill him, trust me. And we will. Just not right this second. You need to take a little bit to relax and grieve. I… I know we need to."

I stared at him, and then it hit me like a rock. I suppose I already knew it, but I had pushed it to the back of my mind. Becca's death had hurt the boys too. Especially Sam, I realized. I could see it in his eyes. He really, really liked her. I had to remember to thank him for that.

I took in a shaky breath, trying to keep my composure. "…Right. I know. Sorry."

I don't think we quite knew how to grieve right. We still probably don't. We mulled around for a day or two, but we all started to get antsy. Even if we weren't going to hunt down Azazel right away, we still wanted to hunt. I guess it's a product of not knowing how to properly deal with our emotions. And killing supernatural creatures always made me feel better. At least for a little while. Again, we don't really know how to deal with our emotions.

So we were in Greenwood, Mississippi. Sean Boyden, an architect, had jumped from a building he designed. He claimed to have seen a dog around the building shortly before he jumped, so we thought it may have been a black dog case.

But as we worked the case, it didn't seem like we were dealing with a black dog. Multiple people, all of whom had frequented Lloyd's Bar in 1996, had become overnight successes about ten years ago. In 1996. And they were the same people who were reporting seeing black dogs and running off or killing themselves. So, naturally, we went to check out Lloyd's.

Yeah, this wasn't a black dog. There were a bunch of yarrow flowers planted nearby, which are often used for summoning rituals. There also happened to be an old dirt crossroads right by the bar. Dean dug a small hole in the center and found a little tin box containing a bottle of graveyard dirt, a black cat bone, and other deep hoodoo items that are used for summoning demons.

These people weren't just summoning demons. They were making deals with them.

A thought crept into my mind. _What if you summoned that crossroads demon…? You may be able to get Becca back_. The realization hit me hard. I could get her back. We could be together again. Sure, I may only get ten years, but…Becca. I could bring her back. I contemplated the idea all the way back to the motel.

"Chris," Dean said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" I responded, not completely paying attention. That's why I didn't notice him approaching the bed that I was sitting on.

"I know what you're thinking," Dean continued, "I can see it in your face. That's why you're staying here while we continue the case."

"What?" I said, snapping back to attention, "Like hell I-" Dean swiftly pulled out a pair of handcuffs that he had been holding behind his back and cuffed both of my hands to the headboard.

"Really?" I protested, yanking my arms that were now above my head, "Handcuffs? Sorry, I'm not into that kind of thing."

"Chris…" Sam sighed, "We just don't want you doing anything you might regret."

"I would _never_ regret doing something that would bring her back," I practically spat. My bitterness took them by surprise. I felt a bit guilty, but I pushed the feeling aside.

"We know," Dean said, "But we promised Becca we wouldn't let you do anything stupid."

"Stupid?" I practically yelled, "This is not _stupid_, this-"

"It's insane, Chris," Sam insisted, "So just stay here while we finish up, please?"

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice," I spat, thrashing a bit to see if I could break loose. No luck.

"We're sorry," Dean repeated, and they walked towards the door.

"Damnit, you guys!" I yelled as they opened the door and prepared to leave. Sam was the first to go, leaving Dean to give me one last apologetic look.

"Dean Winchester," I growled, "If you walk out that door, so help me, I-" He left.

_Winchesters, _I internally grumbled.

* * *

"Dude, she is gonna be _so_ pissed," Sam said as his brother joined him in the impala a few moments after leaving Chris.

"She already is pissed," Dean pointed out, "She's gonna be outright furious."

"Awesome," Sam sighed sarcastically as they drove off.

* * *

Two hours. It had been two hours since the boys had left me. I was staring across the room, directly at the lock pick that I _could_ be using to free myself, _if only I could actually reach it_.

I sighed. I didn't even have a hairclip to pick it with. There was nothing I could do at this point but wait. God, I hated waiting. Patience wasn't exactly my forte. What the boys had said was still ringing through my head.

_We just don't want you doing anything you might regret._

_ We promised Becca we wouldn't let you do anything stupid._

_ It's insane._

_ We're sorry._

Hell, maybe it was insane. Actually, it was definitely insane. But that didn't matter to me. I just wanted Becca back. I needed her back. I just wanted my baby sister with me again.

Two more hours. It was dark out now, and it was a little after 11pm. It was then that I saw a figure pass outside the window. Through the thin space between the curtain and the edge of the window, I saw that it was a man who appeared to be only a little older than me. Oh, fuck it. I was desperate.

"Help!" I yelled, loud enough for him to stop looking and look towards the window, "Someone, please! Help me!"

He worriedly glanced through the previously mentioned gap, and his eyes widened at the sight of me. I feigned a look of terror and helplessness. What can I say? Deception came easy for me.

"Hold on," he yelled through the glass, "I'll try and break the door down."

He took about ten seconds longer than I would have, but he managed to break it down. His eyes scanned the room and lingered on the assortment of weapons on the bed next to mine. Shit. I forgot about those. This complicated things. Oh well, I'd make it convincing.

"What happened?" he asked.

"This guy came up to me and attacked me," I lied, making my voice quiver, "He had a gun, and he threatened me… So I went with him and he brought me back here. And then he chained me to the bed and left, and I didn't know what to do, and I saw you, so-"

"Shh, it's okay," he assured me. His eyes were so full of concern, it almost made me feel guilty. "Let me call 911…" He reached into his pocket, presumably for his cell phone.

"No!" I said quickly, trying to sound desperate. Well, I _was_ desperate. "Help me out first. Please, I'm begging you."

He did as I said and he came over to me. "You don't happen to know where the key is, do you?"

"No," I said truthfully, "But there's a lock pick on the counter across from the bed. My older brother has one, I've seen him use it."

"Perfect," he replied, grabbing it, "I've actually used one of these before…"

He worked quickly, almost quickly enough to make me wonder where he learned how to do that. But I had more important things to worry about.

"Thank you," I sighed once I was free, rubbing my wrists as I stood up beside the man.

"You're welcome," he smiled, "Now, let me-"

"Sorry," I interrupted, dropping my façade, "I can't let you do that."

"What…" he muttered, confused, before I knocked him out with a swift blow to the back of the neck.

I didn't waste any time. I grabbed my supplies and ran out of the motel, taking off down the street. I had to get to Lloyd's.

I was almost there when I decided that I needed to cross the street. My head had been pounding for a while now, and I could feel it turning into a migraine. Great. Wonderful timing. After quickly checking both ways with my blurry vision, I trotted out into the street. But what I didn't see was the car with no headlights coming straight at me. The car was inches from me when I felt my legs automatically lurch to the side. Reflexes had saved me at the last minute. But that had almost seemed to…fast…for reflexes. Oh well. I was basically delirious right now from grief and pain, emotional and physical. I didn't know what was happening.

A woman who seemed to be in her mid-thirties who had seen the whole ordeal ran out and pulled me to the side of the road.

"Good lord, miss," she exclaimed, "That was terrifying. Are you okay?"

"Tell me about it," I muttered, "I'm fine, thank you."

"You must have some angel watching over you," she said with disbelief, "That was a downright miracle."

"I highly doubt that," I mumbled, so quietly that I don't think she heard. Just then, I heard the roar of a familiar engine as I felt a sharp pain in my head. I cried out, falling to the ground. I was vaguely aware of the woman leaning over me and the Winchesters running over to me, but I couldn't make sense of much. The world spun and spun until the spinning was mercifully ended with darkness.

I woke up to the familiar feeling of cool leather on my skin. Groggily, I lifted my head and discovered that I was laying in the back seat of the impala. Sam and Dean were in the front, with Dean driving. As usual.

"You're awake," Sam exclaimed happily, letting out a relieved sigh, "We were starting to worry. Dean was even considering taking you to a hospital."

"Ew," I protested, "No hospitals. They suck ass." Both boys laughed.

"What happened?" I asked, rubbing my temples, "I remember being in the room, and you- Oh."

"Chris, we're so sorry," Dean said, "We just-"

"No," I interjected, "Don't apologize anymore. I…I was being reckless. You were right. Becca wouldn't want me to do that. And…and I have to respect what she would have wanted."

Sam gave me a sad, agreeing smile before returning his eyes to the road in front of them. After a few minutes of silence, Dean spoke up.

"So," he said, "Where to now?"


End file.
